We Cannot Change Our Fate
by Dobby-Joey-Potter-Neko-Chan
Summary: A series of Royai drabbles and one shots all inspired by The Fault in Our Stars' by John Green. Six- Letters from the Dead: Dear Roy, If you're reading this means I have died. (companion to 'Years of Undeserved Help')
1. Fear

**Disclaimer:** Do I really need to write one? If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist would I write fanfiction? Would I live in America? Would I be represented by a cat rather than a cow? "Yes", I said sarcastically, "I am definitely Hiromu Arkwana." -.-

**Dedication: **This is dedicated to the fabulous Miss Callie a.k.a. Violet Abilene or thatawkwardroyaiwriter. She is an amazing friend and person. She has helped me so much with my writing and is, in a way, my Senpai. I really love this girl and am grateful to everything she does and that we started talking.

_**Fear- Drabble/One-Shot Number One**_

Very few words were spoken between them. They lived in the same house yet they rarely conversed. 'Regular conversation' was not something that happened… well, regularly. Roy always seemed wrapped up in his studies. He always had to practice other uses and methods of alchemy. Riza was always off on her own, reading and doing other things. They rarely saw each other except for dinner and when Roy would help her with her chores. Aside from that they rarely had interaction and when they did it was generally simple things, like 'please' and 'thank you.' They never had a meaningful conversation.

"Hey, Riza, what do you fear most? Sensei has been talking about how letting go of fear makes you reckless. I became curious about how different fears can affect the way someone acts." He handed her a dish while saying this. She took it and began scrubbing it. She had to think about this. Most kids her age claim to be fearless. They say that nothing can stop them; they boast over their daringness. Her first reaction was to go with this trend, but she wasn't big on lying, so instead she answered the truth:

"I fear losing the ones I love. I fear hurting them. I don't want to live knowing I have left deep scars on the ones I care about." She sighed, "It may seem selfish, only want to protect those I love not everyone else, but if they don't know me I can't make them feel anything. Good or bad. Like, Mother already died. I need to stay for Father. I couldn't bear knowing I had left him alone." She looked up slightly, while he just stared at her in disbelief, she was very deep for a twelve year old. Maybe reading does that to your brain.

It did make sense though. She always seemed to act with caution. She never seemed to want to upset or displease her father even though he never seemed to really appreciate what she did anyways. She always acted as if she had a reason for living.

After a minutes pause Riza spoke, "What about you Mr. Mustang? What do you fear?" She broke their eye contact by reaching for another dish. Roy finally realized he forgot to keep handing Riza the dishes. But, in all honesty, would you expect him not to? His sensei's daughter and him rarely spoke and then she tells him her greatest fear and basically her reason for living. It was only natural he was shocked, absorbed in her words.

He hesitated. His fear was so different from Riza's. Some would go to call them opposites. There

were multiple things Roy was afraid of; the first was losing those he loved, same as her. But there other fears were extremely different. There were, after all, extremely different people. He sighed causing Riza to look at him. She had been completely honest with him, now he had to do the same in return. Equivalent exchange.

"To be honest, I fear something different. Same as you, I fear my loved ones dying or having them taken away from me. But in contrast to the similarities I fear oblivion." He paused; she had a slight look of confusion on her face. He figured she must be thinking 'Why was fearing oblivion so opposite of hurt those you care about?' "It may not sound like it yet, but I fear all my remains will one day vanish. That no one will remember me. It still doesn't contrast with yours, but keep listening. Having people know who I am, people who want to follow me and my dreams, people who want to carry out my legacy, means that when I die or get hurt they will hurt as well. They will grieve for me. They will miss me.

"It makes me sound foolish. Wanting to leave a mark on the world so badly I'm willing to hurt others. I just want to help them, but I, unfortunately, know the cost of it. Your way of living is," he drew in a quick breath, leaving the rest of his sentence hanging. "A lot less painful." He finished to see her looking up at him.

"There nothing foolish about having a dream." She kept her eyes on him very closely, as if her were to counter her words. He smiled at her softly.

"Nor is there anything selfish about loving others." He said this very softly. She may be deep smart and strong, but she was still a little girl. This was probably a lot for her. It was for him. No matter how strong or smart or brave or protecting of others they were, they were still children; every child has their fears.


	2. Favorite Book

Riza Hawkeye loved reading. That was something that was completely undeniable. When she was younger she could be found reading. Now she could be found reading wherever she had spare time. It was the type of books she favored, those were the mystery. She always seemed to read from a variety of genres. Each one different than the last. It was as if she didn't have a favorite. There were very few who knew the identity of her most treasured book.

That book was An Imperial Affliction by Peter Van Houten.

Riza loved its downright ability to tell the truth. The way it bluntly said 'there is rarely a happy ending and death is inescapable' and Riza loved that. She loved the way nothing was over portrayed. Everything seemed real. Anna seemed real. Her story seemed real. Everything seemed to be so real and she loved that. Books tended to lie to her. Give an overwhelming sense that everything that worked out. Riza new first hand that life wasn't like that. She knew it and Peter Van Houten made it exactly how it was.

The truth was brutal, but it's better than a steadfast stream of lies.

The people who could tell this was her favorite book were the people closest to her and paid attention to the small details, like how she would reread this particular book more than any other (although while she normally doesn't reread books) or how she might quote it when she deemed necessary.

She began reading it when Roy Mustang was a student of her father. It took her awhile to finish it as she was a young girl and AIA was a 651 page book. But he could see her reading it every day, progressing farther each time.

Maybe that's why he was the first to notice her love for the book.

He actually felt quite silly when he saw her reading it for the first time. He had mainly only read alchemy books (much to the pleasure of her father). Other than that, he read action stories. Stories where there was barely a second where no character was getting punched or punching another, stories where the ratio of sentences to toughs dead was about 1:1.

His favorite book was the '_The Price of Dawn'_

Maybe that's why he was eager to read the book Riza loved so much. Because it was so different from his normal preference. He was shocked when he read _An Imperial Affliction_ it was so deep and true and honest. Brutally honest.

Maybe that's why he decided he could trust her and later, love her.

She was honest.

Just like that book.

**A/N:** Gahhh! Sorry for the gap in time. Anyways, I need help. I want to rename the collection. So PM or review some suggestions. It would really help.

**Note of thanks:** Thank you to riza-hawkeye on tumblr. She beta-ed this for me and basically helped me fix my commas (as I appear to have a gaping hole in that area). Also Callie, THANK YOU FOR MAKING THE ROYAI PLAYLIST TO HELP ME WRITE THIS! So I guess it's kinda dedicated to them both.


	3. Ending Infinity

Roy Mustang was dying. That was the truth. But I didn't want it to be; I wanted him to be alive. Alive and well. I wanted him to be NEC again. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted, I wanted, but my wanting never got me anywhere. He was still sick, his cancer was still growing, and he was still going to die. I could never change that. He and his life, his hleath are out of my grasp. Forever. I had failed him. I wasn't going to be able to follow him anymore. I couldn't protect him. Not from this. No. Never from this. Cancer was the one thing neither of us could stop; if we could, our lives would be different.

I woke up to my phone going off, blasting a song of a tune I had grown so accustom to hearing. It was Roy's ringtone, which meant he was calling or someone was calling from his phone. If it was the latter (and the chances were about 50%), it was most likely he was gone, never reachable, lifeless. I hesitated a moment, fearing the worst.

Once I had found the strength to pick the phone up, there was a pause before I could muster a barely audible, _"Hello?"_

"Riza Marie, hey." I felt a flood of relief when I heard his voice. It was Roy. His voice was cracking, a whisper at best, but still his. He was still alive.

"Good. Good. It's you. Hey, what's up? You sound kind of panicked."

"Just," he paused to take in a rather large breath of air. "Just, come down to the Shell on 189 and Bradley, okay? Something happened with the G-tube and I can't fix it and just please help me. Please, Riza." I just realized he was crying, no, not crying, it was more than crying; it was a display of emotions I could hear through the speaker of my phone.

"Oh, Roy, you need to get to a hospital, I'll call nine-one-one."

"No. Riza. Don't call nine-one-one, or my parents, or anyone. Just please come and help me. Please. Just do this for me, Okay?" He was less asking and more so begging by this point.

"Okay, Roy. I'll be there soon."

I hung up the phone and quickly left the house, not bothering to change from my light blue cotton pajamas; I just grabbed the keys and pushed the door open. You don't tend to worry much about your wardrobe when your boyfriend is dying with a defective G-tube somewhere in or near a gas station. I chose not to leave a note for my father as he probably wouldn't care very much. I hurried into the car and drove for a few miles hoping someone would come and ask why I was driving a car if I had no license. Preferably a police officer. Preferably someone who could help me with Roy.

I was met with no such luck.

The Shell was about seven minutes from my house, which had never served as an incontinence for me or my family. Now, though, those seven minutes seemed more like hours, even though I was going well above the speed limit. As the worry ate away at me, time seemed to slow down. I finally reached the gas station parking lot. I turned in to see there were only two cars: Roy's and someone who probably worked at the gas station. Through the dim light that my headlights provided, I could see Roy. He was lying on the sidewalk right next to the entry way. That didn't look very good.

As I got closer I could see he was covered in his own vomit and that his hand was placed on his stomach right were the G-tube went in. I bent over, untangling his shirt from the lower half of his stomach, a stomach that had gone from being strong and sturdy to being weak and fragile. From what I uncovered, I could see his rib.

"Roy, you need to go to the hospital."

"No! Riza, don't let them take me back! They won't let me do _anything_." He stretched the last word of his sentence farther than needed, like a kid who says they'll _die _if they don't have candy. The irony is, if I can't get him to the hospital he actually will die.

"Are you a complete idiot, Roy?," I whispered harshly. "Why are you even here? You should be at home."

He looked down. It was a moment before he said anything and when he did, I kind of wish he hadn't.

"Riza," he started out calm, but the sun always shined before the storm, "You ask why I'm here. I wanted to buy myself something." The calmness in his voice hadn't quite evaporated completely, but there was an edge there, one that I wish there hadn't been.

"But wh-," I cut myself off. No explanation. He was tired of the constant lack of independence. The inability to do anything. Although I knew he decided to say it for me.

"Because, Riza Marie, I don't like being babied. I know you understand this. You, I know, can understand this because we're both independent; I never let anyone really 'take care of me' except for you. But unlike you, I had this extravagant future planned out where I was the king and I wasn't forgotten; my greatest fear is in full affect now that I realize that's not going to happen. I lost my chance to be someone's hero long ago. I just feel so… useless. Like, I'm expecting it to just start raining or something now. Why not give some drama to the situation? That would make it more _valuable_. More like the movies." He let out a slight, bitter laugh. "God I hate this. Maybe you should have saved thoughts times you called me useless for now. Maybe since I realized I no longer have a purpose I'll be allowed," he looked up. He had been crying even more although in the dark it was hard to tell visibly and he had been doing a pretty good job at stifling the sound that emitted from each sob, "to just fuckin' die. Maybe that's best. Maybe there'll be less pain and just all around godamn torture."

I had known he had been in pain, just not this much. Maybe he was right. Sometimes the grim reaper was a little too cruel. He hangs death over your head and lets it swing there, each swing bringing it closer and closer toward you, maybe taking a limb or two, while all you can do is wait for it to finally close in on your heart. This is a thing, I, Roy, and many others are scarily familiar with. Unfortunately.

"Roy, listen to me, you need to go to a hospital." I kinda realized by that point that trying to negotiate with him was pointless, but I knew him enough to know it would be better than by force. It took the absence of protects for me to realize he was hardly conscious. I moved him over so his head was resting in my lap; it was a slow process as I didn't want to alarm him. I reached down into my pocket and grabbed my phone.

I dialed nine-one-one; almost instantaneously I heard the generic '_nine-one-one, what's your emergency?' _Our conversation went more or less like this:

**Woman on Phone**: Hello, please state your location and emergency.

**Me: **I'm at the Shell on 189 and Bradley and my unconscious, dying boyfriend has a defective G-Tube.

**Woman on Phone: **I'm sorry; did you say your boyfriend is dying?

**Me: **Yes.

I inwardly cursed her. People die. It's honestly not that had to believe.

**Woman on Phone: **Okay, what's happening again, I'm sorry, I'm kind of new.

Obviously.

**Me: **His G-Tube is malfunctioning.

**Woman on Phone: **Okay, we should be there soon.

You could practically hear her oblivion. I wondered if my concern was the same. It probably was.

Minutes later, an ambulance arrived. Paramedics scattered from it and headed in my direction with a stretcher for Roy. Once they had collected him, I couldn't stop myself from uttering a small _'I'm sorry' _I felt I had been responsible for giving up his freedom which was something he dearly cherished. When in actuality, it was the cancer that took it away.

**A/N: Can anyone pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease help me with a title change? And would anyone be interested in me drawing something for this? Or would anyone (with better art skills as my own aren't high) like to do it for me? Thank you Callie for beta-ing (again). Thank you. Please review, I LOVE FEEDBACK! Just like how much Roy Mustang loves dogs.**


	4. Years of Undeserved Help

**Royai Week Day Three- 'Need a Hand?': 'Years of Undeserved Help'**

Riza Hawkeye was only mildly surprised when she fell ill with cancer. The sickness had taken the lives of both her mother and father. Genetic cancer has about 5%-10% likelihood and if it was doubled by the fact that both her parents had it was something Riza did not know. Having a direct relative with lung cancer, the type her father had, raised the possibility of developing that lung disease about 50%. Considering her line of work and _who_ she worked with (aka Mr. Sparky and Mr. Smokey) the fact that she would eventually get the cancer in terminality was exceedingly provable.

Riza knew she deserved it. After everything she had done- Ishval, giving up on living, almost shooting him on The Promised Day, it seemed her atrocities had no end. She found it heavily ironic, he seemed to be a basis of all her sins, yet he was the one who protected her and helped her. He would always make sure that she would take off work when she needed too (no, he wouldn't make her quit, that would only stress her with worry for him); even then, he would check up on her. He would always make sure the hospital treated her well. He would always make sure that she treated herself well. He would always, he would always. He did everything unnecessary. He did everything to keep her well and happy and safe. Ever since she joined the military, it seemed she tried to protect her even though her soul duty was to protect him. Now, instead gunshots or creeps named Kimblee, he was keeping her safe from the mental pain that came with the sickness, rather than that that came from war.

Once, she decided to ask him why he was protecting her. When she did, her words seemed stupid. Does anyone need a reason for unrequited kindness to a sick person? Especially from a man who was already so kind? He pitied her. He, however, seemed to disagree with her hasty conclusion. His eyes just softened as he looked at her, smiled and said 'You looked like you needed a hand.' As rushed as her earlier accusation had come to her, this one had too. That was his way of saying 'I do it because I love you.' This one, although it filled her brain at a similar pace, was different. This time, she knew this to be true.

With that in mind, Riza was able to lie on her hospital bed in complete silence; the only noise that could be heard was the faint sound of his thumb shaking her hand and the slight shaking of his sobs. They both knew this would happen, they both know what's going to happen. Riza knows she's lucky, she got years of undeserved help, undeserved comfort and kindness. With that in her mind she allows the life to escape her body and her soul to leave knowing he'll do good. The last thing she remembered was the sound of his crying. That was her only regret: not being able to stop his sobs, not being able to protect him from his own tears.

* * *

I broke writing this.


	5. Rain

"It's just that it's… a terrible day for rain."

"But… what do you mean? It's not raining."

As he said that, his head was shook the same as his hands, which were clenched into tight fists at his sides. His eyes were shut just as tightly as his fists, as if the very thought of sight was a grotesque thing that should have been abolished ages ago, like a mere glimpse of light would kill him. His upturned head was the last bit that told me exactly what he was doing. His actions made it easy to catch on. All he had to do was turn and smile. He just had to turn and say everything was alright. That he was fine. But he had failed. His clouds, they said they would suppress his rain for him. They had lied to him.

"Yes… it is."

The fact that I knew what he was trying to accomplish was something one should not be proud of. I was no exception. Although, it would be a horrendous lie to say I had never done it. There were many times, especially when I was younger, I would have had to use this technique. When my Mother died was the first time I had, that time I had failed. Weather it was my age, my experience with it, or the situation I'm not sure of. There had also been many times with my father where I had used this. Many, many, times. Now, I did it subconsciously, for it had been part of my routine for so long. Particularly sad murder cases, mostly ones where children were involved, Ishval, things concerning the Elric Brothers or the Colonel, and other things I found important and held dear to me.

There are times where I can't do anything about the streaming tears or I'm unable to choke my sobs. Times like these include when The Colonel burnt my back or when he had left for the military. Difficult, significant points in my life were generally the most tear jerking for me. I guess that is a way the two of us are similar. This was like when my mother died for him. He lost someone important to him. Someone who helped him and pushed him. Hughes was, even if The Colonel wouldn't admit it, his best friend. He felt responsible for his death even though it wasn't his fault. He was just that kind of man; any tragedies that happened to those close to him he saw as his failure.

"...Oh. So it is."

I understood what he meant. Rain and crying. They were the same. Rain was what happened when the clouds got to heavy, when the sky had had enough. Weather it was long over-due from drought or just pouring down constantly it fell. Tears were produced when a person had feelings that were too heavy to bear. Like rain, they could be long over-due tears that were brought by happiness or from trauma that never let up. The main difference (other than the fact that tears fell from your eyes and rain from the sky) was that the sky never tried to stifle the rain. It was stronger than that. Stronger than us.

"We should go back. It's getting chilly."

* * *

A/N: I DID THIS THING CALLED AN UPDATE. If you have anything to say about this please tell me in the reviews. I would honestly love to know your opinion. Oh, by the way, I'm turning into John Green, Okay? Okay. I apologize for your possible pain in advance. I'm going to play HetaOni now. DFTBA


	6. Letters from the Dead

October 3, 1926

Dear Roy,

If you're reading this means I have died. That was a bit cliché, huh? Either way, I just want to tell you thank you. Even though I may not have expressed it (well, it would have been illegal, really), I appreciate everything you have done for me. You were there for me, you protected me, and, even if you did it subconsciously, you tried to understand me. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Huh, I said I would protect you that I would follow you into hell, but it seems that you protected me. Funny how thing work out like that, yes? I mean some people would say that is really only fair. That it was a form of equivalent exchange. But you know, Roy, it wasn't. I got more than I deserved. You know what I mean, right?

I've killed so many, survived when I shouldn't have, I couldn't protect _you_. Or the Elrics. Or anyone no matter how I tried. But I'm selfish, Roy. I want- wanted more. I wanted to see you become the Führer; I wanted to have happiness and live. That was silly of me. You alchemists would call this equivalent exchange, yes? For a farewell letter I sure am asking you a lot of questions. Sorry about that. The questions and the rambling, I mean. I guess I'm just scared. And nervous. And sad. I don't know. I just know that I'll miss you. A lot. It just scars me that, for once, I will truly not be with you. And never will again.

So, in the long run, I'll just miss you. Like a lot. I guess you knew that. I just really love you and the thought of leaving you is tearing me up. I know that that's not what you want me to think. Because I know I would give you hell if the roles were reversed.

Just remember that I appreciate you and love you,

Riza

* * *

Roy didn't know what broke his heart the most. Her words were certainly heartbreaking, yes. But the fact that she seemed that she had rushed though like the grim reaper was above her head (though it hadn't been because he had been there when he _was_) and that that was much like her life. It had gone by fast and ended suddenly. The letter was a parallel to her life in another way- he would always treasure it.

* * *

KISS KISS WHO ACTUALLY LIKES HOW I WROTE RIZA? I really think I went heavy with the sap in this chapter. It's not even that sad. Anyways, sorry about not updating for two months; I've been having writers block. I'll try to do better with the next one, okay?


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